Spinster Ever After (The Spinster Chronicles #7) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,97
would like to speak with you, sir.”
Michael turned in surprise, that surprise shifting something in his chest as Charlotte stood there, lovelier this close than she had been at a distance.
Something about her seemed stiff, hesitant, almost nervous, yet a ringlet near her left ear drew his attention, his fingers itching to touch it.
“Charlotte,” he said, grateful he didn’t sound out of breath or guttural as he did so.
She smiled a little, but it wavered. “Michael, would you mind terribly if I had a word? Out on the terrace, perhaps?”
He blinked at the suggestion and glanced out of the windows. “The terrace?” he repeated.
“Capital idea,” Lady Sterling praised. “Privacy while in full view of us. You know the way, don’t you, Charlotte?”
Charlotte smiled at her, nodding. “I do, thank you, Janet.” Her eyes flicked up to Michael’s, the hesitation returning. “Michael?”
He gestured for her to lead on. “Of course.”
The smile flashed across her face. “Thank you. Only a quick word, back in a blink.” She turned on her heel and hurried away, leaving Michael to follow in confusion.
What in the world was this?
Oh, she would die before she could get the words out of her mouth.
Back in a blink? Was she all of ten years old once more trying to convince her mother that she hadn’t behaved badly?
The terrace was expansive, and it was well lit, but Charlotte would have given anything for a dark garden and a hedge between them.
Her heart pounded almost violently within her, and she pressed a fist to it in an attempt to force it into submission.
How could she confess to Michael that she loved him if she could not hear anything? Could almost see her heart beat as her pulse seemed to exist behind her eyes…
“What did you need a word in private for?” Michael laughed as he came onto the terrace with her. “Surely you have no secrets from the Spinsters.”
She swallowed with difficulty, willing herself to have the strength to turn and face him. “They wouldn’t think so, but this has nothing to do with them, and everything to do with you and me.”
“Oh, dear,” he sighed, sounding so like the friend she had known before all of this that she found herself smiling, the tension in her lessening just enough that she could turn to him now.
She exhaled slowly and forced her fingers to unhook from each other and fist at her sides instead.
There would be no turning back from this.
“You’re not going to believe this, Michael,” she began with a strained laugh, “and in fact, I barely believe it myself, but it is the truth, and I have to tell you now or it will not happen.”
His attention was fixed on her, his eyes hooded in the dark of the night. He had stilled, seeming to barely breathe as he stood there. “You hate my mother, don’t you?”
Charlotte blinked slowly, then blinked again as his words replayed in her mind. “Wait, what?”
He shook his head, exhaling slowly. “I’ve suspected for years, but you’re finally admitting it, aren’t you?”
“Erm, no?” Charlotte gave Michael an incredulous look, wondering where in the world he pulled that thought from, and how he could possibly think she would need the privacy of the terrace to tell him something like that. “I mean, she isn’t my favorite person, but she’s not…”
“Ah ha!” he cried, pointing at her. “I knew it.”
Hell’s bells, he was an idiot.
“Michael,” she ground out, her patience fraying at an ever-quickening pace, “that is not what I wanted…”
“Mr. Sandford,” Janet called merrily from the door. “It is our dance, if you’ve finished.”
He nodded and smiled at her. “Of course, my lady. I believe we are.” He winked at Charlotte, which made her stomach flip. “I won’t tell.”
“No, Michael, wait,” she begged as he started towards the door.
He turned and laughed. “Charlotte, we can revisit this later. I’m looking forward to your thoughts.”
Charlotte all but growled in frustration. “Michael! You cannot marry without knowing…”
“Marry?” he replied, snorting once. “I’m not planning to marry, Charlotte. What gave you that idea?” He gave her another strange look and returned to the ballroom.
Charlotte had extended a hand during her final attempt, and now that hand turned palm up in a strange inquiring gesture as she almost slumped where she stood, blinking rapidly. “Not ever?” she asked the night air, knowing no response would come.
It was a stupid question, and it did not matter in the least. The important thing was what had prompted it.